Spirits We'd Like To Set Free
by PoisonComeUndone
Summary: Some Dean POV oneshots from Merry Go Rounds and Burial Grounds Are All The Same To Me. Title comes from the same song. These'll take place all over the place in the timeline.


Alright, so…since Merry Go Rounds is written 95% from Sam's perspective (there's only one section from Dean's, and you guys won't be getting there for awhile), every now and then I really get the urge to show something from this verse from Dean's perspective. So, they'll probably eventually be quite a few little snapshots like this. This one's from really early in their relationship, just 3 months after Sam came back and made the decision to stay rather than go to Stanford, and it's fluffy and happy and cute because happy boys make _me_ happy. (Of course, broken boys make me happy too but I've been doing a lot of that to them lately, XD)

Anyway, hope you like it! ^^

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This was never going to be his kind of place. The first time they'd come here, it'd taken him a damned long time just to _find_ black coffee on the menu hidden in the midst of all the frilly coffee, and if _that_ hadn't been annoying enough, there was the whole atmosphere of the place, the certain crowd you were generally supposed to fit into if you came here.

It worked for Sam in a way, even though he was way better than all these bimbos, but Dean just wasn't interested in the slightest. He wanted his coffee to taste like _coffee_, not like caramel or pumpkin spice or any of that shit.

Of course, his distaste for the place was kind of irrelevant, because Sam loved it, and that was that. He'd bitch and moan and whine, but he'd come here nearly every damn time Sam wanted just because it was _Sam_, and the eyes he could give Dean when he wanted something were exactly the reason most of Dean's Christmas money growing up had been spent buying things for his little brother. It was ridiculous how easy Sam could get him to cave, but he'd long since ceased to care.

At the moment Sam wasn't even in this madhouse with him, though, and that was making things all that much more annoying. What the hell was a macchiato? What was better, gingerbread or peppermint? He could've sworn Sam had gotten something sort of simple last time because their order hadn't taken forever, but in a place like this simple was kind of relative and he had no concept of how this kind of thing went. Hell, he couldn't even remember if Sam liked the whipped cream, though he was pretty sure he'd seen him drinking a cup with whipped cream floating on top a couple times.

Jesus, this was ridiculous.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Yeah, absolutely. They could serve some freaking normal coffee, and have an instruction manual for all the rest of it. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, hunching his shoulders. "Yeah, I…I just want a black coffee and…" He shook his head, eyes roving over the menu again. " 'M tryin' to remember what my brother likes but he's…I dunno, I don't drink this stuff." It was right after he said that he realized that probably wasn't the best way to put it while he was standing _right there_ and he held his hand up, his eyes flickering down to meet those of the pretty redhead behind the counter. "No offense, ma'm, I just-"

"None taken." She smiled, finished writing on his cup and sat it down on the counter, snatching up an empty one for Sam. "If I could make a suggestion...?"

"That'd be awesome, actually." She _worked_ here. She'd probably had everything on the damn menu and she seemed like the type of person this place attracted, maybe even the type of girl _Sam_ would've attracted. Not that he'd exactly meant to think _that_, because up until that little revelation he'd liked her just fine.

"I really like to blend the gingerbread and the eggnog. It's a unique taste with just that little bit of spice; it's delicious."

Sounded disgusting, but sure, why the hell not. He shrugged, smiling just a little for her. "Yeah, that sounds like something he'd like. Thanks."

"No problem." She scribbled on the cup ridiculously fast in a scrawl Dean was pretty sure even Dad wouldn't be able to read. "Can I get your name?"

"Dean." If he'd gone to Dunkin Donuts for coffee, he wouldn't have had to go through this.

"Alright, Dean, they'll be up in just a few minutes."

Hopefully sooner rather than later, because they really needed to be hitting the road. Making a coffee run was definitely a necessity though, especially considering they'd been out until well past 3 last night. Dad had still been up when they came in, researching, and he'd been ready to light into them for staying out so late while they had a case but Sam(God love him) had had plenty of information ready to spout back that he'd gathered earlier that afternoon, so it at least _looked_ like they'd mostly been working. They had worked a little, because no matter what, yeah, this was damn serious to them to, but after they'd gotten everything done for the night that they possibly could they'd driven out a ways and had some time to themselves. That was hard to come by with dad in their space all the time, and it was nice to not have to make sure they weren't giving anything away all the time.

This thing between them was still new, only about 3 months or so, and Dean had never had a relationship that lasted this long, but he was starting to see some of the things about them that had people so crazy and tied up in knots. God, he'd loved Sam since the day he was born and loved in ways he didn't think he should for a long time now, but _this_…this was different. This was better and amazing and it made him want to do stupid shit like get up at 6 in the fucking morning and go get Sam gay frilly coffee just so he could see him smile when he handed him the cup. At this point, Sam had Dean pretty firmly in the palm of his hand, though he wasn't sure Sam had figured that out just yet. Either way, he couldn't even bring himself to care and that probably should've bothered him, but it didn't. He was _happy_, in a way that he'd never been or ever thought he would be, and that was more than enough.

By the time he got the coffee and got back to the room it was 6:30 and Sam had fallen back asleep, sprawled across their bed with his feet hanging off the side. Dean chuckled under his breath, sat the coffee down on the nightstand and reached over to rub Sam's back, leaning over him.

Sam grunted, not hardly awake, and he turned his face a little farther into the pillow. "C'mon, sleeping beauty. Time to get up, we gotta go check out those other witnesses."

"I hate you."

"Uh-huh."

"It's too freaking hot in here and you kept shoving the blanket on me. I got like, an hour's sleep."

"Wow, I'm sad for you." Sam reached back to slap his hand away and Dean pulled it back only to lean in closer, tugging on Sam's shoulder hard enough to roll him over and make Sam face him. He glared up at him through half open eyes, and Dean grinned. "Well hello, sunshine. I brought you coffee."

Sam blinked, groaning again as he stretched. "…thanks, I guess. It's too early."

"You have rather gotten up at 6 to go get it yourself?" He sat down on the edge of the bed, reached over and found Sam's cup and pushed it into his hand when he sat back against the headboard. "Here, drink until you stop growling, Sasquatch."

He stared at the cup, his eyes opening just a little wider. "You went to Starbucks."

"Yup." Dean took a sip of his own coffee and tried not to compare it to Bobby's.

"Voluntarily. Without me dragging you kicking and screaming through the door."

"I do not."

"It's pretty close, Dean."

"Will you just drink it? I wasn't sure what you wanted, I mean…I couldn't remember exactly."

Sam tipped the cup back, and the soft little sound he made after the first sip was enough to make it worth it. "I take it back. I don't hate you."

"Good to know."

Sam laughed, soft and still a little sleepy, and he held the cup out toward Dean. "Here, try it. Think you'll be surprised."

He wanted to say no, really, but Sam was staring at him and…well, one sip wouldn't kill him. He sat his own down and took it, shuffled it around in his hand for a minute before he tilted it back and swallowed a mouthful. It was sickeningly sweet but actually surprisingly awesome. Even the thought was repulsive. He made a face, pushed it back into Sam's outstretched hand. "Tastes like bitch coffee."

"Jerk."

"Yeah, well, what can I say." Sam reached over to wrap one hand around the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss that Dean couldn't resist deepening, tongues sliding together as Dean tasted the hint of coffee mixed with the familiar taste of Sam. He pulled back, smirking. "Now that, that tastes pretty good."

"You think?"

"I'd say so, yeah."

"Good to know."

Dean took a quick last kiss, shoving at Sam's chest as he stood up from the bed. If he let himself get too distracted, they'd waste too much time before they headed out and they wanted to get to that witness a couple towns over on her lunch break, with a little bit of time to observe her beforehand.

"We still goin' with the 'friend of Mike's' thing?"

"Far as I know."

"Well, I'll be out in the car, then. Hurry up."

"Hey, Dean?"

When he looked back Sam had moved to sit on the edge of the bed facing the door. His hair was sticking up in about 5 directions and as much as Dean kind of hated to think it, the only word for it really _was_ adorable. He looked like he was 11 all over again, growing into too much floppy hair and too long limbs.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the coffee."

"No problem."

Outside the door he heard Sam curse when the water came on too hot and he grinned, hiding his smile behind his coffee cup. Sam might not figure out right now that he'd taken off the hot/cold directions and switched it last night, but he'd be sure to figure it out later when he was more awake, and even then, it'd definitely be worth it.

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End file.
